Monthly Archives: October 2016

Aubriella Lightner is not where she wants to be this point in her career, but with a father whose bills are bleeding her dry, she has no choice. As a sideline reporter for football season, she does the best she can to showcase her talent, but her true passion is investigative reporting and she stumbles on a story only to have one of the most intense moments with mafia bad boy Vincent Citrione.

Vincent can have any woman he wants, they all bow down to his needs and most are boring. When he meets Aubriella she stands up to him and he can’t stop thinking about her. Vincent though has to tamp down his feelings while figuring out if Aubriella is a threat or not.

I liked aspects of this but didn’t really like how Vincent treated Aubriella. I think the story almost tried to be too many things. Had some excellent moments would be interested in seeing what else this author writes.

Lola Grace knows whats she wants, Max. However Max is engaged to her mother, even though the marriage is a facade and their are reasons behind it that Lola Grace does not know. A taboo attraction that has both Lola Grace and Max struggling with wanting something they cannot have, or can they?

It was a bit convoluted for me. I decided to give it a try based on the reviews, I think it was okay but not my cup of tea and had a few things I just didn’t feel comfortable with.

When Evey finds out that her brother has been hiding the fact that they owe more money to a mafia loan shark, she is livid especially when the loan shark wants it paid in his bed with her body. Vincent has long been crushing on an oblivious Evey, when he sees her upset he does something to fix it. Vincent finally has Evey in his arms and he has no plans of letting her go.

This was fun fluff. I thought overall it was a bit unrealistic but was looking for something light and this worked.

Talia Fielding has always been secluded, her father’s belief that the outside world will do nothing but corrupt her. As a senior though the state intervenes and sends her to public school, one bad moment though ruins everything and sheis sent away. The only bright spot was being protected by Griffin Stanford.

Griffin has been interested in the college girls, in fact although some are attractive none have peaked his interest. Griffin figured when he found the one he would know and he does, Talia is the woman who is going to be his. When she disappears however, he worries he will never see her again, until he gets an email that is a game changer.

This was fun, it was perfect for what I was looking for. I wanted a quickly placed romance and this fit the bill, especially with an alpha male hero. I liked Talia, you felt like all the new things she tried were spot on and could feel the excitement. Worth picking up.

Just the mention of her name makes my blood pressure soar. She’s the hot as hell reporter who told the world my days as Chicago’s quarterback were over and made my fans doubt me. Who the hell does she think she is to give my throwing arm its last rites? Now the team owner wants us to do some messed up reality show together called Beauty and the Baller. During the season, I eat, sleep, and breathe football. This Beauty better not mess with my game, or this Baller is going to pull the plug on her show.

Bryce Luck…

He hates my guts. Big time. One stupid news report and I’m on his sh*t list for life. I wish I could take back my words, but I was following orders. Just like I am now. My boss wants me to produce a sports feature where I follow Bryce around 24/7, including the locker room. His blue eyes and dimpled smile make my knees weak, and I lose all perspective. I tried to fight it—my attraction and the show. Tried to say it was a bad idea. You know what they told me? A respectable reporter gets the job done. Well, Bryce isn’t the only one who knows how to dish it out. I’ll give him a taste of his own tough luck.

USA Today bestselling author, Liv Morris, was raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri. She now resides on the rock known as St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating twelve times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she’s planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing.

TRU BLUE is a sexy, dark stand-alone novel written in the same loving, raw, and emotional voice romance readers have come to love, and the deeply emotional literary prose women’s fiction readers have come to expect, from New York Times & USA Today bestselling, award-winning author Melissa Foster.

“With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!” New York Times Bestseller Julie Kenner

“Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!” New York Times Bestseller Lauren Blakely

He wore the skin of a killer, and bore the heart of a lover…

There’s nothing Truman Gritt won’t do to protect his family–Including spending years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. When he’s finally released, the life he knew is turned upside down by his mother’s overdose, and Truman steps in to raise the children she’s left behind. Truman’s hard, he’s secretive, and he’s trying to save a brother who’s even more broken than he is. He’s never needed help in his life, and when beautiful Gemma Wright tries to step in, he’s less than accepting. But Gemma has a way of slithering into people’s lives and eventually she pierces through his ironclad heart. When Truman’s dark past collides with his future, his loyalties will be tested, and he’ll be faced with his toughest decision yet.

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“You can always rely on Melissa Foster to deliver a story that’s fresh, emotional and entertaining. Make sure you have all night, because once you start you won’t want to stop reading. Every book’s a winner!” NYT Bestselling Author Brenda Novak

TRUMAN GRITT LOCKED the door to Whiskey Automotive and stepped into the stormy September night. Sheets of rain blurred his vision, instantly drenching his jeans and T-shirt. A slow smile crept across his face as he tipped his chin up, soaking in the shower of freedom. He made his way around the dark building and climbed the wooden stairs to the deck outside his apartment. He could have used the interior door, but after being behind bars for six long years, Truman took advantage of the small pleasures he’d missed out on, like determining his own schedule, deciding when to eat and drink, and standing in the f**king rain if he wanted to. He leaned on the rough wooden railing, ignoring the splinters of wood piercing his tattooed forearms, squinted against the wetness, and scanned the cars in the junkyard they used for parts—and he used to rid himself of frustrations. He rested his leather boot on the metal box where he kept his painting supplies. Truman didn’t have much—his old extended-cab truck, which his friend Bear Whiskey had held on to for him while he was in prison, this apartment, and a solid job, both of which were compliments of the Whiskey family. The only family he had anymore.

Emotions he didn’t want to deal with burned in his gut, causing his chest to constrict. He turned to go inside, hoping to outrun thoughts of his own f**ked-up family, whom he’d tried—and failed—to save. His cell phone rang with his brother’s ringtone, “A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds to Mars.

“F**k,” he muttered, debating letting the call go to voicemail, but six months of silence from his brother was a long time. Rain pelleted his back as he pressed his palm to the door to steady himself. The ringing stopped, and he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d trapped inside. The phone rang again, and he froze.

He’d just freed himself from the dredges of hell that he’d been thrown into in an effort to save his brother. He didn’t need to get wrapped up in whatever mess the drug-addicted fool had gotten himself into. The call went to voicemail, and Truman eyed the metal box containing his painting supplies. Breathing like he’d been in a fight, he wished he could paint the frustration out of his head. When the phone rang for the third time in as many minutes, the third time since he was released from prison six months ago, he reluctantly answered.

“Quincy.” He hated the way his brother’s name came out sounding like the enemy. Quincy had been just a kid when Truman went to prison. Heavy breathing filled the airwaves. The hairs on Truman’s forearms and neck stood on end. He knew fear when he heard it. He could practically taste it as he ground his teeth together.

“I need you,” his brother’s tortured voice implored.

Need me? Truman had hunted down his brother after he was released from prison, and when he’d finally found him, Quincy was so high on crack he was nearly incoherent—but it didn’t take much for f**k off to come through loud and clear. What Quincy needed was rehab, but Truman knew from his tone that wasn’t the point of the call.

Before he could respond, his brother croaked out, “It’s Mom. She’s really bad.”

Author Bio:

Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance (M/F, M/M, F/F), romantic suspense, thrillers, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa’s emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success.

Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.

Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.

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Prequel to the New York Times bestselling and award-winning novel, FORGET TOMORROW!

In a world where all seventeen-year-olds receive a memory from their future selves, Logan Russell’s vision is exactly as he expects — and exactly not. He sees himself achieving his greatest wish of becoming a gold-star swimmer, but strangely enough, the vision also shows him locking eyes with a girl from his past, Callie Stone, and experiencing an overwhelming sense of love and belonging.

Logan’s not sure what the memory means, but soon enough, he learns that his old friend Callie is in trouble. She’s received an atypical memory, one where she commits a crime in the future. According to the law, she must be imprisoned, even though she’s done nothing wrong. Now, Logan must decide if he’ll give up his future as a gold-star swimmer and rescue the literal girl of his dreams. All he’ll have to do is defy Fate.

He could see her now, and it made him want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. If he had known, he never would’ve let her come.

Her face was pale, so pale, and her eyes stood out like stars in the black sky. But they weren’t lustrous stars full of verve and sparkle; no, her stars were the ones at the end of their lives, the ones in danger of blinking out. Her bones looked fragile, her skin was as thin as parchment paper. Bruises decorated her arm like the latest fashion trends. In a mere week, she looked like this. In a week, she had transformed from a girl to an apparition.

His heart shook, and shame flooded him. I’m sorry, Callie. So sorry. I didn’t know. I thought this was what you wanted. I thought I was doing the right thing.

He hadn’t known—but he should’ve. He was the one with the connection to the Underground. The one with access to information other people didn’t have. He should’ve known, and he should’ve stopped her.

But then, so quickly he barely registered it, she crossed the floor and laid her hand on his chest. He blinked—and then blinked again. What was she doing? They had to get out of here.

“You feel amazing,” she said, oblivious to the urgency. She didn’t sound like herself, either. What was going on? And then she shuffled forward until their shoes were touching. He inhaled sharply and forgot everything else. The touch was nothing. He knew that. Synthetic rubber against synthetic rubber. But now they were connected in two spots. Everything inside him sizzled and popped. If she touched him anywhere else, he might explode.

She seemed determined to try. She trailed her hand across his chest, over his shoulders, up, up, up to his face. And then, she rubbed her fingers back and forth, and the breath shot out of him. He’d never felt anything so sweet, so exquisite. It felt so good it almost hurt. No, it did hurt, but if this were pain, he’d go to Limbo for an eternity.

Her fingers skipped to his lips—and he couldn’t take it anymore. His body broke free from the force that was paralyzing him. He could either grab her and kiss her senseless—or he could put a stop to this and get on with the mission.

He struggled. Oh, how he struggled and damned Fate to the moon and back. Every fiber in his body screamed, Do it! Kiss her now! And if they were anywhere else, if it were any other time, he would’ve.

But he couldn’t forget the bruises on her body. If he didn’t break her out now, he’d never be able to live with himself.

He reached up and covered her hand with his trembling fingers. Fate help him, if he was going to end this moment, he wanted at least one touch of his hand against hers. Something for him to remember during his sleepless nights.

He moved her hand from his lips, and it felt like he was dragging it through wet concrete. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he said hoarsely, “but we don’t have much time.”

Her eyes snapped into focus, and everything about her features sharpened. “You’re real?”

Author Bio:

When her first-grade teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Pintip replied, “An author.” Although she has pursued other interests over the years, this dream has never wavered.

Pintip graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. She received her J.D. at Yale Law School, where she was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL.

Pintip is represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House. She is a 2012 RWA Golden Heart® finalist and a 2014 double-finalist.

The Lost Great Dane is the first novella in the Lost and Found Pets series. Alexandra Prescott opened the Lost and Found Pets agency because she loves animals. Reuniting pet and owner is more than just a job.

While searching for a lost cat, Alex finds a weak and injured Great Dane. The dog has no collar, no tags, and no microchip. And the only person looking for him is a man who might have murdered his own wife.

Within 24 hours, Alex has a hunted dog, a homemade microchip, and a hitman on her tail. She realizes the only way out of this mess is to solve the mystery of the lost Great Dane.

Excerpt

As I headed down the hallway to the office, I could hear Claire talking to a client. I glanced at my watch and realized it was our two o’clock appointment. I gave the client a brief nod but didn’t interrupt. When I reached my desk, Hero came over to greet me, and Jerrie raised her head. Once she realized I wasn’t doing anything interesting, she went back to sleep. Both cats were curled up on the love seat that was directly in the path of sunlight streaming through the front windows. It is one of their favorite spots.

I played with Hero for a moment and gave him a treat as I absently listened to Claire try to talk our client out of requesting the advanced search. The woman was elderly, and it was apparent that she didn’t have much money. Even worse, her missing pet was a bird. Hero could search by air scent, but it was very difficult to track something that flew.

“Mrs. Kearns,” Claire said in a soft, caring voice, “it is very hard to find birds. We will be happy to call all the shelters and some local aviaries. Maybe someone found her and turned her in.”

“No, no she won’t go to anyone else. Please, dear, please help me. I’ve had Molly for almost thirty years. I just don’t know what I’d do without her.”

The woman’s voice broke on the end. Claire looked at me. I closed my eyes briefly and nodded. Claire quickly rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to Mrs. Kearns. As she spoke softly with the woman, I gathered Hero’s leash and my backpack. Hero followed me over to them.

“Mrs. Kearns,” I said. “I’m Alex, and this is Hero. Let’s go see if we can find Molly.”

I spent the next two hours searching Mrs. Kearns’ neighborhood for her parrot. In the end, it wasn’t Hero that found the bird but one of the neighborhood kids. They had been out playing in the yard a few houses down, and one of them spotted the brightly colored Macaw in a tree. It took Mrs. Kearns coaxing and a special treat of a juicy apple before the bird consented to fly down, but both the client and the bird were finally corralled.

Once Molly had been returned to her cage, I took her picture for my wall. As Mrs. Kearns thanked me for what seemed like the hundredth time, I gathered my things and prepared to leave.

“Wait, dear.” Mrs. Kearns hurried over to the table and began digging through her purse. For an older woman, she moved fast. She had told me she just turned eighty. I thought about introducing her to Harvey. I had a feeling the two of them might get along.

“Mrs. Kearns…”

“Just a moment, dear,” she said. She found her wallet and pulled out some bills. She tapped them together and turned back to me. Head high, she held them out to me. “I know your fee is two hundred dollars. This is $172. It’s all I have at the moment, but I will get you the rest. You have my word.”

My heart broke a little at those words. I could tell Mrs. Kearns lived on a fixed income. Her house was clean and orderly, but the furniture was old and the outside could use a paint job. There was no doubt in my mind that money was all she had. I had a feeling it was all she had left for the entire month, and it was only the eighth.

My first instinct was to refuse, but I changed my mind when I looked in her eyes. She was both terrified that I would accept the money and terrified that I wouldn’t. I took the money from her hand, plucked a twenty from the stack, and shoved the rest back to her.

“We have an installment plan, Mrs. Kearns. Ten percent down,” I said, holding up the twenty, “and equal monthly payments until the balance is cleared.”

Relief flooded her face for just a moment. I quickly looked away, called for Hero, and headed for the door. Too many bad memories came back to me when I thought about worrying if I had enough money to eat. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“You take care of Molly, Mrs. Kearns.”

“Thank you, dear.” I heard her whisper as I closed the door behind us.

B. L. Blair writes simple and sweet romance and mystery/romance stories. Like most authors, she has been writing most of her life and has dozens of books started. She just needs the time to finish them.

She is the author of the Holton Romance Series, the Leah Norwood Mysteries, and the Lost and Found Pets Novellas. She enjoys reading books, writing books, and traveling wherever and as often as time and money allows. She is currently working on her latest book set in Texas, where she lives with her family.

Click on any of the below book covers to be taken to the page that has more information on the novel as well as the Buy Links! Please make sure to scroll down as each page will consist of many titles in that same genre!

My name is Nathan Turner. I’m the best networker in the world, and I make big deals happen.

Right now, I’m bringing together the most powerful people on the planet. When the group is complete, we’ll have a pool of over one trillion dollars.

Internally, we call ourselves the Syndicate. But within the Syndicate is another group — a smaller group of bad-boy billionaires who the press already knows and loves.

We call ourselves the Trillionaire Boys’ Club. The Syndicate controls the world, and we control the Syndicate.

There’s only one man standing in my way.

And now there’s this girl in my way, too — this 18-year-old freshman who seems to think she knows my business better than I do.

Fortunately, there are ways to deal with both of them.

The Connector is the first book in the Trillionaire Boys Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of another of the Club’s members … so pay close attention, because you’re going to want to collect them all.

IT’S ANNOYING, THE WAY I keep checking my Patek Philippe watch — and the rhodium and carbon fiber clock on the mantle — as two o’clock nears.

I have things to do. A million things to do. I don’t even have time to check my email, and that’s where so many connections are made. I’ve automated everything to save time: set it up once, then taught Geoffrey how to either do it himself or outsource it to someone competent.

That’s the way my calls and texts are handled, the way my appointments are made and my social calendar is taken care of. But the Syndicate has changed everything — all of the things I used to do are now like chores in the background. That’s right in a way; I hustled to amass my first billion, but now I’m playing a game that’s literally a thousand times bigger.

My day-to-day won’t matter at all when my network’s worth reaches a trillion. Then I could burn all that I’ve built, and it wouldn’t matter at all.
I’m so busy these days, I don’t stand for my own tailoring. Geoffrey found a guy with my exact build, tried an alteration on one of my suits, then calibrated once I found time to try them on. Now I use that same stand-in for all of my tailoring, because I’m too busy to stand in one place.

I barely attend my own meetings. I don’t answer my own phone.

I have to do my own workouts, unfortunately, but I have three personal trainers, a nutritionist, a cook, and several cross-discipline instructors for the sports I enjoy most, all at my disposal to tell me exactly what to do and when.

Geoffrey translates vague descriptions of clothing into wardrobe choices for the next day so that I don’t have to think.

Every fucking second is accounted for. My life has no wasted moments.

Yet here I am, sitting on my sofa with my laptop, ignoring the work at hand.

I keep looking at my watch, and glancing at the clock. Waiting for a knock from the single person the doorman has been instructed to allow entry.

She’s one minute late.

She’s two minutes late.

I thought about her all night long.

Alex Wynn is a distraction. I keep saying that to Geoffrey. But even though he’s supposed to be my gatekeeper — the man who has more sense than me sometimes, whose job is in part to save me from myself — Geoffrey’s done nothing to prevent this. I told him that I wanted to start coaching Alex, because if she was going to nose her way into my stuff, she should at least know what she’s doing. I told him that Alex was a wildcard, and that her unpredictability could sink us if she isn’t properly molded — taught the Nathan Turner way of doing things.

Geoffrey should have nodded, said, “Yes, Nathan, I agree,” and then set her up with any one of the faceless minions beneath me. She could have earned a real-world education that would eclipse the bullshit she’s learning in school, and it wouldn’t have cost her a dime. It all could have happened without my involvement, just a random series of emails or texts.

Instead, I answered when Alex called earlier. And I made the appointment.

Geoffrey sees it all and says nothing. He lets Alex sink her hooks in me, as if he’s trying to sabotage all that I’ve built.

I thought of her on my drive — alone, in my Bugatti — back to the office yesterday.

I thought about her through the rest of my demolished afternoon.

I thought about her over dinner, wondering what slop she was eating in her cafeteria while I ate charred lamb leg, with gnocco alla romana, shaved fennel, celery and vincotto. I even considered calling her to start our lessons early. If she’s to be my student, the least I should do is teach her to eat finer foods.

I thought about her in the evening.

I thought about her all night long, and then all day until she called — with me, Nathan Fucking Turner, waiting by the phone like a pathetic teenager.

Celeste also called, following her earlier thank-you for my college speaking gig with an offer to pay a visit. I know the code; her “visits” end in sweat and spent fluids. But I turn her down, tell her I’m busy. I don’t even know why until I’ve hung up, again answering my own phone even though I shouldn’t.

My mind continues to cycle.

Alex turns me on so much, it’s hard to think. I find her so hot, I feel practically sunburned. But it’s more than that.

I wonder if it’s that I think she could be an asset to the company. She has guts. Oblivious to the truth that she’s in over her head, she keeps right on swimming. She’s tough. She’s hard. She’s pushed back every time I’ve squared off against her. I dragged her into a closet to shout her down, but she stared me in the eye and backed me into a corner.

Nobody stares me down.

Nobody challenges my decisions or commands.

Nobody takes me by the balls, because I’m always three steps ahead.

Nobody but Alex.

Author Bio:

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life’s largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.